


I Was Delayed

by RhymesoftheRenegades



Category: Monster Blood Tattoo Series - D. M. Cornish
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymesoftheRenegades/pseuds/RhymesoftheRenegades
Summary: Because Rossamund Bookchild can not step out the front door without getting into trouble.





	I Was Delayed

**Because Rossamund can not walk out of a front door without landing in trouble!**

**Disclaimer: This series was too brilliant for me to have created it!**

Europe tapped her foot expectantly, arms crossed and eyebrow arched, as she stared down at her young factotum. The duchess-in-waiting's calm gaze was capable of more menace than most souls could produce from raging tirades, and Rossamund's strong desire to look away was only just halted by a surety that it would only make his predicament worse.

“I have confirmed through our gracious host that the office of Smidley & Smythe is less than a dozen blocks from this very inn.” The casualness of his lady's tone did not fool him. “And I am most interested to hear how it happened to take you the entirety of the night to deliver papers of my successful theroscaturg to their premise and back?” Her critical eye looked over the queer sight before her; the boys sturdy and finely made clothes and proofing now torn up and dirtied, and his normally studiously clean features soiled with grime. “And in such a loutish state?”

“I-I had no trouble with the _delivery_ Miss Europe,” Rossamund cautiously asserted. “It was only on returning that I was, eh, hindered.”

“Really,” the fulgar's brow rose higher. “And what could inconvenience my diligent factotum so severely?”

“Well, Miss Europe, as I was coming back there were several country folk advancing down the road toward me from the opposite way,” Rossamund explained. “And they had with them several ill mannered tykehounds. I thought it best to give them a wide berth to avoid any hysteria by the dogs, and so ducked my way into a narrow alley.”

“Is that where your person became so sullied?” Europe asked.

“No ma'am,” Rossamund replied. “That was in the woods.”

Europe said nothing, looking increasingly bemused, and the foundling pressed on with his account. “A street boy knocked against me in the alley, and I realized he had snatched my purse and went to chase him. But at the opposite end of the passage he tripped on an uneven stone and sprained his ankle.”

“You were able to apprehend him then,” Europe was confused as too how this could delay him so.

“Well, he looked rather poorly used ma'am, so I reset his foot and fixed him a restorative. He seemed much revived by the time I went on my way.”

“How wonderful,” The duchess-in-waiting responded dryly; she was beginning to see she'd had no success in breaking Rossamund of his bothersome principles.

“So as I continued my path back to the inn I was again accosted, this time by a slovenly drunk who I saw to be a falseman. I don't know how a leer was reduced to such a state, but he began to should very abrasively as he pointed at me, declaring that I,” Rossamund shifted from one foot to the other, very agitated. “That I was a beast in human clothing.”

“I don't think anyone gave him much credence,” the foundling plowed on, away from this distressing incident. “So obvious was his dipsomania. But I wanted nothing to do with him so I turned down another alley, and when he seemed to follow I darted into a cellar door.”

“I'm afraid I must have interrupted some private occasion, for the was a thickset guard behind the door who I threw aside in my haste. I don't know what manner of gathering it was; but the room was mostly women, done up in too many rouges and blushes, with a few men strutting among them with coin changing hands. It must have been some private occasion because they all seemed very displeased by my intrusion.”

Europe slid one hand across her brow. It was rather alarming that, against all efforts of this world, her factotum had managed to remain very naive.

“Just then a man came out of one rooms who I recognized as the Viscount, that man who insisted on meeting us when we came to town yesterday. The one with such fine clothes who smiled too much. He erupted into a particular fit when he recognized me, and I turned and ran from the premises. He must have been very angry indeed as he sent his fellows after me, I had to run far for fear of coming to blows with them.”

“How many pursuers was it that sent my _mighty_ factotum scurrying away?” There was an incredulous reprimand in the duchess-in-waiting's voice.

“Three Miss Europe,” Rossamund shrugged apologetically. “I knew I could have easily overcome them, but I was worried it would be a spectacle that may draw the notice of the townsfolk. I thought it better to flee.”

“Yes, you had been most unobtrusive up too this point.”

“And then, Miss Europe, as I passed through an alley to try and lose them the boy, the street child I had helped, appeared and said he would lead them away. As I hid within a barrel he guided them away saying he had seen me depart.”

“Very kind of him,” Europe hoped there would not be much more to this.

“But I emerged from the barrel too soon,” Rossamund continued. “And a dog on the street went into a fit, and they saw me and gave chase. To escape them I finally ran along the riverfront and jumped in, clinging to a post beneath the dock as they searched overhead. I heard them talk of getting into a boat and patrolling the water, so as quietly as I could I swam to a large cromster with an open porthole and climbed inside.”

“Is that where you spent the night?”

“No Miss Europe, as soon as I was in the boat was cast off and began to cruise down the river. From the sound of music and stamping feet on the deck I supposed the boat had been hired for a party. I hesitated about what to do then, but deciding it was better not to be carried away I tried to sneak my way to the upper deck and see if it was possible to swim to shore.”

“But as I tried to find the hatchway I discovered one of the other rooms was being used as a hob-rousing pit, where a number of ill mannered gentry-men, and a few women, were forcing several small bogles to fight each other. I could not stand this, so I through a fulminant potive in among them and grabbed the poor frair and bolted through another porthole, swimming to shore as quickly as I could.”

Europe rubbed a spot between her eyes that was beginning to ache. “Your adventures have not brought us _more_ irregular traveling companions, have they?”

“No Miss Europe, the bogles reached the riverbank before me and were well gone by the time I arrived. The sun was nearly set by then, so I thought it best to billet for the night and curled up inside a hollow tree.”

“The songbirds woke me at the early dawn, and I began to make my way toward where I reasoned the road to be. As I came upon it there was a great commotion and a terrible screaming; and I found a coach that had been assaulted by several nickers, at a spot where the trees grew close to the road.”

“I surmise there was a fight?” Europe was becoming impatient to reach the end of this narrative.

“Aye miss Europe,” Rossamund nodded, “A wailing house maid told me that a girl had been stolen from the coach, and since the guard had been cruelly clawed up and the driver was busy calming the maddened horses, I thought it best that I be the one to pursue them.”

“They were not careful about leaving a trail through the woods, and I shortly came upon them in a small clearing. They were digging through trunks they had lifted from the coach, and talking of how they should cook the girl. I picked up a sturdy branch and charged in to begin laying about them with it, and as they retreated from the clearing I grabbed the girl and we fled back to the road. The driver had settled the horses by then, and it carried us back to town with all haste.”

“Once we were within the town walls, I hurried back here as quickly as I could.” Rossamund anticlimactically finished his tale. “Also, Miss Europe, I lost my hat.”

“We shall have to begin to order them in sets for you.” Europe continued to rub her forehead.

Before she could announce her intent to depart before they encountered anymore delays, a cry of joy erupted from the doorway of the inn they had solicited, and a pretty young girl came rushing toward them. She looked rather worse for the wear; in a once fine day dress that was now muddied and ragged, with long tawny blond hair that probably would have looked luxurious if not full of snagging tangles and forest debris.

The young lady practically leaped upon Rossamund from behind, throwing her arms around his neck and showering him with kisses. The young factotum seemed supremely distressed by such a forward display of affection from the pretty girl, his posture stiff with fright as his features turned as deeply red as his proofing.

“Thank goodness I found you,” the girl seemed to not wish to be separated from him, as if in his absence some danger might assail her at any moment. “You must come to the manor house for middens today, mother and father will want to meet you!”

“T-that, that is very polite of you to offer,” Rossamund gently used just a bit of his considerable strength to pry the girl off him and hold her at bay. “But we really must be going now Miss . .” He had not caught her name, or if he had it now escaped him.

_The traditional custom_ , Europe reflected as she once again massaged between her eyes, _is that the peer places more labors upon their factotum, and not the same way reversed_!

**Of the few fandoms that I have written for, _Monster Blood Tattoo_ is the one that most requires the aid of a thesaurus!**

 


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